"Faith! monsieur, he goes through some very curious performances; they're very much like it! But that isn't all."
"What else is there, Frontin?"
"I know that Monsieur Bistelle sent a very fine bouquet to Mademoiselle Georgette this morning."
"A bouquet! The popinjay! He had the assurance! And did the little one accept his bouquet?"
"Yes, monsieur; indeed, it's on her window sill now."
"Can it be possible? I must look."
Monsieur de Mardeille lost no time in going where he could see the shirtmaker's window; he not only saw a huge bouquet on the sill, but he saw Monsieur Bistelle walking in the courtyard and humming:
| "And if I am not there, |
| At least my flowers will be." |
"Well, well! I must act, that is plain!" said the elderly dandy to himself; "I must declare myself in some other way than by standing at the window. Still, I can't make a straight dash for that grisette's rooms; that might compromise me. Ah! I have an idea! It's as simple as can be. She makes shirts. There's a pretext right at my hand.—Look you, Frontin."
"Here I am, monsieur."